


blades of grass

by llasol



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llasol/pseuds/llasol
Summary: as wilbur watches the world fade in and out with philza's sword in his chest, he's taken back to a stormy night on a grassy hillside days before.
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Kudos: 17





	blades of grass

**Author's Note:**

> in my mind, this is what happened; i've always wanted to include niki's character more in the lore as well as explore wilbur's depth. this is my way of going about that, which i hope you enjoy reading. but it's pretty short so akjrhgslkejrhgslkejrhg
> 
> please, do leave comments! i'd love to hear from you. :)

“You’re so,” she starts, sucking in her cheeks and biting her lips. She lets out a small sigh, fingers brushing tentatively over the blades of grass beneath her. The edges of the blades stiffen, unwilling to bend. She knits her brows together, saying, “so reliable.”

Wilbur almost laughs, is so tempted to when she turns to look at him with such honest admiration.

Instead, he stares at his hands, turning them over with a careful eye. “I will cry,” Wilbur replies, choosing to mask the guilt gripping at him with bashfulness. The night sky is clear with visible clouds that make it look more like dawn than the stark night. There is no darkness to mask the pained expression on his face.

Niki laughs softly and stretches her legs out in front of her. The blades are more forgiving against the warmth of her fabric, embracing her legs with gentleness.

Wilbur plucks a dandelion and rubs the stem between his calloused thumb and forefinger. His movements are slow, careful; but the flower’s petals fall despite his caution. The wind picks up the dandelion's petals in such a graceful swoop that it reminds him of the dancers at a royal ball; he smiles. The stem, now thinner and broken, lays limp against his hand, the feeling tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m not,” Wilbur whispers, frowning slightly, “reliable.”

He can see Niki tilting her head at him with big, round eyes. His shoulders draw back with a slow exhale and he nestles the dandelion’s stem amongst the blades of grass. He lets his head fall forward, seeking shade from the bright moonlight. Clasping his hands together, he chuckles; Niki ducks, trying to glance through the curls framing his face.

“Of course you—“

“Listen—“

Wilbur scans her eyes with his own in surprise, letting out a short laugh afterwards. Embarrassed by their jumbled speech, Niki puffs out a breath and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s rubbing her palms together, staring intently at some patch of dirt next to her, but Wilbur can't tell if she's actually cold.

Wilbur’s still looking into her eyes, though they don’t meet his, when he hears himself speak.

“I care too much.” The words feel like a weight on his chest, sinking into the depths of his heart. “For L'Manburg, our freedom.”

Nikki stops rubbing her hands together. “That’s ridiculous.”

Nope, definitely not the cold then.

Wilbur just laughs again in response, resting his arms over folded knees. The clouds are swirling overhead, threatening to swallow every sliver of light. “Is it really?”

Niki sputters, scoffing the start of a reply but Wilbur stops her.

“I care so much, Niki,” he tells her, pushing the weight off his chest. He pushes it towards her, towards Niki; so that she can see just how serious he is. “So much that I risk their lives to get it back. Tommy’s life.”

Niki’s fingers dig into the grass, pushing past their stiffness. “You know who Tommy reminds me of?”

Wilbur clamps his eyes shut, shaking his head. His arms are raised in mock defense. “Don’t—“

“You,” Niki says, her gaze wavering but with anger. “Skilled, dedicated, and passionate.”

“A visionary,” Wilbur corrects, pink crescent shapes on his palms now. He opens them, glancing at the broken dandelion stem.

“A visionary?” she repeats, her voice wobbling. There’s red rimming her nose and eyes. “Is that what our hope is to you? Some fantasy?” She’s standing over him, moonlight flitting over her shoulder. But the clouds brew behind her with dark swirl of blue and purple.

“That’s not,” but it is, “what i meant.”

But it is, but is is.

“Wilbur. We’ve made progress; real progress. And Tommy would—“

“Follow me to my grave?” Wilbur offers, scoffing. He’s tired, of this, of the age-old feeling in his bones. “Yes, that’s exactly the point.”

“He would tell you not to give up on L'Manburg, not for him.” The words are sharp and poke at the weight settled over his heart.

“I know!” Wilbur cries, returning every ounce of venom he’d received. “I know! and I know that I won’t give up on this, not for him, not for anyone. And that’s dangerous.”

He pushes himself off the grass and the wind bites at him with unforgiving cold. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, turning the crescents on his hands red. “I’m not reliable, Niki; I’m obsessed.”

He thinks the wind's frozen her, too, because she’s standing so still that he can’t see her breathe. Wherever those clouds came form, they retreat; but the light remains, shining on the tears gliding down her cheeks with brilliance. That same moonlight bears down on him but with less pity, exposing his tousled hair and narrowed eyes. And he wishes he could burn the image of her tear-streaked face from his mind forever.

“No,” she whispers, searching his face with her eyes.

Whatever she finds, it gives her no comfort. She smiles at him though her face bids her not to, pulling at the taut lines of her mouth with what little strength she can muster. Wilbur sees the corner of her lip twitches and suddenly realizes that he can’t quite look her in the eye anymore.

“You’re not.” It sounds more like a personal reassurance.

She turns, making her way through the large expanse they find themselves in, nearing the trees. He watches her shoulders shake with slight vigor and the image of her tear-streaked face flashes in his mind again. He lifts a finger, wanting to chase after her, wanting to apologize and forsake his obsession, in favor of their friendship, in favor of tommy, of tubbo, and every one of his friends sworn to him under the name of L'Manburg. But he doesn’t.

And still, the grass does not bend to Niki's will. Not even as her footsteps pave the way to someplace brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> thinking of maybe including the bit where wilbur's lying on the ground, bleeding out in front of phil. and tommy's and niki's reaction to his death. 
> 
> let me know what you think!


End file.
